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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23616634">There's a World</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wewriteletters/pseuds/wewriteletters'>wewriteletters</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Prodigal Son (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Gen, Medication, Overdose, Pre-Series, Self-Hatred, Sort Of, Suicide Attempt, Young Malcolm Bright</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:27:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,570</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23616634</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wewriteletters/pseuds/wewriteletters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm had a plan. </p>
<p>Everything was always better when he had a plan. </p>
<p>For Bad Things Happen Bingo: Overdose</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699966</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>110</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>There's a World</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have like three WIPs for Prodigal Son right now and I can't focus on any of them so I thought I'd finally try and write something for my bingo card lol. This is my first time doing one of these so I hope I did everything right? I don't know, I wrote this really quickly just because I needed to get something on the page, hope y'all enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Malcolm had a plan. </p>
<p>Everything was always better when he had a plan. </p>
<p>He picked the night Jackie and Gil were coming over for dinner. He knew that would guarantee his mother would be sober and present. That Ainsley wouldn’t just be pawned off to the nanny for the evening. That he would have a chance to see Gil and Jackie one last time.  </p>
<p>At dinner, he did his best to seem okay. He answered Jackie’s questions about how he was doing even though everyone at the table knew he was lying through his teeth when he told them things were going fine. </p>
<p>It didn’t matter. Soon, Malcolm wouldn’t have to pretend anymore. </p>
<p>After dinner, Ainsley went to go upstairs. Malcolm stopped her in the hallway, while the adults were in the sitting room, talking, distracted, and gave her a hug. The nine year old had laughed and rolled her eyes, pretending to be embarrassed at the affection. </p>
<p>“I love you, Ains,” Malcolm whispered, holding her tighter than he ever had before. “You’re going to do so many great things in life.”</p>
<p>Ainsley squirmed out of his grip, pushing him away in exaggerated disgust. “Ew, why are you being so mushy?” </p>
<p>“Can’t I just tell my sister I love her without having an ulterior motive?” </p>
<p>Ainsley rolled her eyes again. “You probably just want me to cover for you with mom while you sneak over to Gil’s place, like always.”</p>
<p>Malcolm smiled, turning his head back so he could see the sitting room. His mother, Gil, and Jackie were all absorbed in conversation and cocktails Jessica had had the chef prepare specifically for this night. “No, I’m just trying to tell you goodnight.” </p>
<p>“Goodnight Mal,” Ainsley softed, looking at her brother again before jumping forward to give him a hug of her own. “I love you too.” </p>
<p>He watched his sister bounce up the stairs and found tears forming in his eyes. </p>
<p>It was better this way. He just had to remember that. </p>
<p>Malcolm turned to stand in the doorway of the sitting room, watching Jackie laugh and his mother groan as Gil, semi drunkenly, told some elaborate story about his job. </p>
<p>Malcolm wished he could say goodbye to Gil and Jackie. Tell them how much they meant to him, tell them he loved them. Maybe even say something to his mother. But Gil would sense something was wrong in a heartbeat. Malcolm couldn’t risk that when he was already so close. </p>
<p>Besides, that was what the note was for. </p>
<p>So all he got out was a soft “goodnight” from the doorway, turning his back before he could see Gil turn around and shout “see you tomorrow, kid!”</p>
<p>If he stayed a second longer, they would see him crying. </p>
<p>------------</p>
<p>The four bottles were laid out on his bed. Malcolm had brought a large glass from the kitchen and filled it in the bathroom sink. The door to his bedroom didn’t lock; he’d put his desk chair under the handle as a precaution, but no one would have a reason to check in on him until tomorrow. He left the note on his dresser, propped up against a stack of books. He had left the outside blank, he hadn’t known what to put on it, but he figured someone would notice it eventually. And even if they didn’t, he wouldn’t be alive to worry about it.  </p>
<p>Malcolm looked down at his quilt and swallowed, biting down on his lip so hard he drew blood. The bright orange bottles stood out against his navy blue bed set, but his eyes were still so blurred with tears, he couldn’t even read the labels.   </p>
<p>This is for the best. He just had to keep telling himself that. Malcolm would be free of the pain that simply being alive caused, and everyone around him would be free of him. Free of the burden. </p>
<p>His mother wouldn’t miss him. She barely acknowledged him anyway. It would be a blessing for her to just have to worry about Ainsley from now on. </p>
<p>Ainsley might miss him, but only for a little. She was resilient, she’d bounce back. And when she was older, she’d understand why he did it. </p>
<p>Jackie and Gil wouldn’t miss him. They’d probably be relieved. They would be free of their obligation to the Whitly family. They could focus on having their own children, children who wouldn’t be broken screw ups like him. </p>
<p>His father would probably be the only person to truly miss him. The thought brought Malcolm no comfort; it just made him even more disgusted with himself.</p>
<p>It was now or never. If he waited too long, he’d psych himself out. He had been planning this for a month, ever since school had gotten out for the summer. Malcolm had hoped that being away from the teasing, the glares, the bullying, would make him feel better but it just reminded him how alone he really was. Ainsley was always rushing out the door to go to her friends house or summer camp or horseback riding lessons. The only time Malcolm ever left the house was to go over to Gil and Jackie’s, go to therapy, or visit his serial killer father. </p>
<p>What a sad, pathetic life. </p>
<p>He didn’t even deserve to have a miserable life, let alone a happy one. Malcolm wished he could trade his life for just one of his father’s victims. But he couldn’t, so this had to be the next best thing. Balance the cosmic scale, if only a little; one life for twenty three. </p>
<p>And he was so tired. </p>
<p>Malcolm picked up the bottles one by one, dumping the contents onto a paper towel. The sight of how many he had just made him feel all the more broken. </p>
<p>One pill bottle. </p>
<p><i>Freak.</i> </p>
<p>Two pill bottles. </p>
<p>
  <i>Monster.</i>
</p>
<p>Three pill bottles. </p>
<p>
  <i>Creep.</i>
</p>
<p>Four pill bottles. </p>
<p>
  <i>Psycho.</i>
</p>
<p>He shoved the first handful of the rainbow capsules into his mouth, doing his best not to gag as he choked down half the glass of water. He repeated the motion two more times, until there weren’t any pills left. He gathered up the paper towel and bottles in his hands and tossed them in the trash can by his desk. </p>
<p>Malcolm didn’t know what to do now. He hoped it wouldn’t take long. Downstairs, the sound of Jackie laughing waded up to his room. He smiled at the comforting noise and crawled into bed. </p>
<p>He knew that when he closed his eyes, there would be no more nightmares.  </p>
<p>------------</p>
<p>“No, he didn’t show any signs of...what are you implying?”</p>
<p>“Jessica, it’s his job, he has to ask.”</p>
<p>“My son almost died! And now I’m being interrogated?”</p>
<p>Malcolm moaned, rolling his head to the side and sinking further down into the pillow.  Someone was holding his hand in theirs and rubbing comforting circles into his palm. His eyes felt far too heavy to open, so he kept them closed, trying his best to relax. </p>
<p>His stomach hurt and his throat was dry, but mostly he just felt exhausted. He wasn’t even sure where he was; it definitely wasn’t his own bedroom, but the fragments of voices overhead and a steady beeping next to him did little to center Malcolm’s mind. </p>
<p>He’d almost died? </p>
<p>Oh. Malcolm suddenly remembered the plan. The plan that had clearly failed, given the “almost.” </p>
<p>He didn’t know how he should feel. His immediate response was embarrassment, guilt, shame. He wanted to curl up into a ball and become nothing. Malcolm didn’t even know how he was going to face his mother, never mind Gil or Jackie. </p>
<p>Or Ainsley. How would he explain this to Ainsley?</p>
<p>His mind then moved to anger, rage, frustration. If Malcolm didn’t feel so weak, he would have shoved the hand away, started screaming at his mother for finding him, at the doctor for saving his life when he didn’t want it to be saved. It wasn’t fair. Malcolm had no control over anything in his life anymore and he wasn’t even allowed to put it to an end? </p>
<p>It didn’t matter. He’d just keep trying. Eventually they’d all get tired of saving him. They probably already were. </p>
<p>But just as soon as those intense emotions overwhelmed him, they began to fade away. His exhaustion was only growing; he didn’t have the energy to feel anger at whoever found him or guilt for what he had tried to do. Malcolm just wanted to rest.</p>
<p>“It’s okay, dear. Just go back to sleep. We can talk when you wake up.” He turned his head slightly to the voice, still not opening his eyes. The person beside him (Jackie, he’d know her voice anywhere) squeezed his hand, her voice growing even softer. “I’m so glad you’re still with us, Malcolm.” </p>
<p>There were fragments of other voices still around him (“We can get him help…” “Gil, I can’t keep doing this…” “Just give it time…”) but all Malcolm could focus on was Jackie’s soft and warm touch moving from his hand to his cheek. </p>
<p>“You don’t have to worry about anything,” she said, rubbing her thumb in circles on his cheek. Malcolm leaned further into her touch, letting out an inadvertent sigh. “I love you so much.”</p>
<p>And finally, Malcolm let himself drift back to sleep. Knowing that at least when he woke up again, Jackie would be there. </p>
<p>He could worry about everything else later.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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